


Snapshots of the Wild

by BranchesOfRowan



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Link wondering what the heck is happening, Long winded prose, Memory Loss, like seriously guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-05-16 05:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19311832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BranchesOfRowan/pseuds/BranchesOfRowan
Summary: He'd woken up with no memories and no explanations, left to fend for himself in a wild world that didn't seem to like him very much. What, exactly, was he supposed to make of all of this?





	1. First Night

     The first night after he awakened, Link fashioned himself a makeshift camp against a broken-down wall in the looming shadow of the ruined temple. It was exceedingly basic as camps went, just some grass he’d picked from the field shaped into a bed with his threadbare shirt covering a rock in place of a pillow. He’d kept a fire burning through the evening and banked it down to a smoldering bed of coals as the night set in. With the mild weather it was more than enough warmth, even as poorly dressed as he was.

     A little ways up the road, the old man still had his own fire burning. Link could see it flickering like starlight, standing out against the dark of the wilderness. He supposed he could have hiked back up and made camp nearby—there was even shelter there, too, after all, but there was something about the old man—something Link couldn’t put his finger on that tickled the back of his mind. And the thought of asking a complete stranger ( _wasn’t_ he?) to share his fire made something in Link’s chest go tight and his breathing shallow and quicken until his head spun. His body’s way of saying _absolutely not_ , he figured. Besides, as comforting as a fire was, it attracted attention, and there were creatures in this place that Link did _not_ want turning their eyes on him.

     Through several broken branches, stolen clubs, and sheer tenacity, Link had cleared the immediate area around his camp of the strange, pig-like monsters that roamed it. The fighting came almost frighteningly easy, his body taking over and muscles directing him into stances and patterns he couldn’t even name. A branch in his hand swung and struck true at his enemies’ weak points, dancing like a sword he’d never even—

 _Have I, though?_ Link wondered, looking down at his hands. A thick wooden club rested nearby, a weapon he wielded just as easily as the tree branch. It felt right in his hands, the movement natural, the weight of it almost familiar . . . _I wish I knew who I was._ He couldn’t figure that knowing would explain _everything_ —certainly not how he’d come to wake up in a pool of water that glowed blue, hearing the voice of a woman he’d never met (right?) in a crumbling cave in the middle of what seemed like absolutely _nowhere._

     But it would be a start, at least.

 _Come to think, I’m fairly certain normal people don’t hear strange voices in their heads, either._ Link let out an angry huff of breath and ran a hand through his hair. _Great. Maybe I’m crazy . . . I suppose that would explain a lot, though._ He flopped down onto his side, careful not to let his head hit his pillow rock too hard. He obviously had enough issues with his brain already.

     Link shifted so he stared up at the starry sky, arms bent and hands linked behind his head. He’d noticed when he’d woken up early and again when he stripped down to make his bed that if he looked down at his bare chest and stomach that he would see smooth unblemished skin. There would be no sign of injury save some fresh bruises he’d received at the hands of the pig-snouted monsters earlier. No scars. He was willing to bet his shirt and pants his back was exactly the same.

 _And that’s not right. It can’t be,_ Link thought, one hand tracing an imaginary line down the right side of his chest. _If I know how to fight as well as I seem to, I should have all kinds of scars, shouldn’t I?_ A single day of fighting and he had already begun accumulating a number of wounds and welts. If some of those creatures had wielded even moderately sharp weapons, Link figured he’d be sporting an impressive number of cuts by now. Surely it had been the same—maybe even worse—when he’d learned how to fight? And surely not _all_ of those wounds would have healed without scarring?

 _Something must have happened to me,_ Link thought, but he had no idea what it could have been. _Is that . . . is that why I’m here? Is that why I don’t remember anything?_ He frowned. _But then how does that explain anything? How does any event leave me as an abandoned blank slate?_ He let out another frustrated breath and rolled back onto his side, tucking his hands in front of his chest and staring at the dim glow from the coals of his banked fire. _None of this makes any sense._

     Even if there was something off about him, the old man had been nice enough and taken Link’s ignorance in stride. Perhaps he should seek the man out, see if it was common for wide-eyed young men to stumble out of that cave and down the hill without a lick of an idea how they’d gotten there.

 _And then lose the only other person I’ve encountered so far because he knows I’m insane._ Link hugged himself, feeling suddenly cold even though the air around him stayed stubbornly warm. He was almost painfully aware of the ruins surrounding him, making him wonder if finding any other living people would be a harder task than he anticipated. At least in the morning he would figure out whatever landmark the old man had been talking about and hopefully get some more information on the world around him. _Whatever happened to me, I hope that it isn’t connected to all of this._  


	2. First Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (rough and unbeta'd. Thank you for your time.)

            The whole thing seemed like an impossible idea. Link’s hands trembled slightly as he gazed out over the horizon. To throw himself from the cliffs of the isolated Great Plateau, utilizing the paraglider to slow his descent until he could make a gentle landing in the greater wilds of Hyrule—it was a _crazy_ idea, certainly. He’d seen the ruins of a massive staircase (he thought it was a staircase, anyway, sometimes it was hard to tell with these old structures) that must have once lead down into the lower fields. Proof that there had to be a better way than just—Link adjusted the fit of his worn pants to try and ground himself at the thought, ignoring the way the grime on the clothes felt. He imagined himself running, jumping, dropping the paraglider in a fit of panic—oh _why_ did they have to destroy the damned staircase?

            It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights, exactly. He’d scaled the sides of mountains and even climbed that Sheikah tower without a second thought. He’d peered over the edges of the tower, looking for those blasted shrines until his head spun at the sight of the sheer drop. It was just that there was something fundamentally different about hauling yourself up with the strength of your own arms and legs compared to. . . . Link gestured hopelessly out over the cliffside as if there were someone there to explain the whole thing to. He figured he’d shimmy up the tallest tree on the plateau before jumping to his death. And on the whim of a ghost-king at that!

            Still.

            He’d woken up confused and desperately wanting answers. He’d gotten answers, to some extent, but they seemed completely and utterly fantastical (he pointedly ignored the swirling, boar-faced darkness surrounding the figure of a distant castle). But somewhere out there, apparently, was someone that would be able to shed more light on them and vouch for their truthfulness. If it weren’t for the spirit of the king leading him to things Link couldn’t have known on his own (right? Or was the king just some vision of memories that still remained buried somewhere deep inside him?) he wouldn’t even have been standing there considering. Well. What it was that he was considering. It wasn’t as though the specter had been honest with him the whole time, though. So could he really trust. . . ?

_At least I’ve taken this thing on a few test glides,_ he thought. He’d worked from some small boulders to the tops of the watchtowers the monsters had built. _So I know it works the way it should._ He stubbornly refused to consider the possibility the entire thing, including the solid weight of the item in his hands, was all a trick of the mind. A bird flew overhead, calling out to something he couldn’t see. _But standing here worrying about it does me no good._ Link shook out the paraglider and took a few tentative steps closer to the edge of the cliff. If he really wanted to know what was going on, he’d have to leave the plateau. There was no other choice in the matter.

            _Well,_ Link thought to himself, hefting the glider in his hands. _I suppose I could wander around this plateau endlessly, clearing out the rest of those monsters. But I’ve only seen a handful of boar and some birds, so what happens when they’re all gone? I’m not about to eat monster meat._ He tried not to gag at the thought. _And besides, it won’t take long before I really_ do _lose my mind from the utter lack of socialization going on here._

            No, that didn’t sound appealing at all. Link took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the paraglider, and ran. He was so focused on the run that he almost forgot to leap at the end; his heart jumped into his throat and he hefted the glider above his head immediately. It caught the breeze, the sudden stop to his fall nearly yanking his shoulders from their sockets. Still, despite all of his worries, it worked. Link tried to keep his mind on the feeling of his arms holding him up, his hands clutching at the handles, convincing his fear that he was the one keeping himself aloft (technically at least a little bit true, right?)

            The sights below didn’t help his racing mind a bit. The rest of Hyrule seemed to have faired no better than the plateau; stone ruins dotted the landscape almost as far as Link could see. What was even worse was that more monsters prowled the devastated structures, ones larger than the ones he’d fought on the plateau, with longer snouts and great, arcing horns. A few of them even wielded truly terrifying weapons; Link stared for a long minute at what had to be a whole tree trunk.

            _No, that’s not possible, they’re not_ that _big,_ he told himself sternly. He was still far up above the ground; perception was certainly playing tricks on him. That’s what it had to be. _Even if it’s not, those things definitely aren’t friendly, and they look tougher than what I’ve already fought._ Link’s heart sunk as he considered the implications. He’d woken up wanting explanations and answers to everything so badly but now the more he learned about the world around him, the less he wished he knew.

            _Although,_ a tiny, traitorous voice in the back of his mind said. _If what King Rhoam said was true, maybe you can fix it?_


End file.
